Of These Harrowed Souls
by Learlorde
Summary: As wounds begin to heal from the recent Mandarin incident, the team finds themselves getting sucked into a severe investigation after few outrageous attacks unravel into a dire battle. And as they try to pick up the pieces, the team discovers a scheme that could potentially engage them in an all out war.
1. No Rest for the Weary

_Greetings,_

_This story is based off the short version of **Veiled of the Truth**; and to those followers and fans of that story, I apologize for the long wait. Having a few months break, I was able to clear my head and plan out a stable story and I will assure: **Of These Harrowed Souls** is the exact same story, just reaching back from the sneak peek and journeying throughout the whole plotline. Also, I originally had an invasion in the sneak peek, but in this reanimated verse, the dealings will stick to more domestic and earthly. In advance, I will warn that this story will contain graphic violence, language and dark themes; but being a story about the team, it will have all the little moments of joy, horror, sorrow, and much more - except slash, I don't do slash. I will say, I will do my best to keep this story as realistic as possible and include the detail that I can; however, there will be some scenes I cut due to my own will because, as you can see, this one chapter alone if over **9,000 words **__and I began to get __frustrated_._ Further chapters will hopefully be shorter, but if they aren't, you know why my updates may take a few weeks. Now, this story begins three weeks after the events of Iron Man 3, to which the team have been together for approximately seven to eight months if New York took place in the late Spring or early Summer. Assuming that, and the event of this first chapter, I attempted to give a lighter and more of a bonding feeling in this chapter; Steve stretching his wings a bit in the twenty-first century, Bruce becoming more social, and several other aspects; but, I will note Tony may be a bit dull at some points, which is understandable, due his recent surgery and can be fatigued. Forward, I believe I told you all current notes and I hope you enjoy this story. So, with that, I introduce to you, Chapter 1 of Of These Harrowed Souls: **No Rest For The Weary.**_

**_*Note: Please read the author notes for important information on the story you are about to read!_**

_-Learlorde_

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><p>1<p>

No Rest For The Weary

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><p>The last threads of light gradually seeped from the earth like blood; allowing the dark to gate the snow that rampaged in its downfall. And the cold… there was no doubt it was invading through the thick walls and glass that birthed the tower; even with the heat cranked. It just continuously jabbed, leaving the icy air to brush any exposed piece of skin and the worst of it – it was a damp cold. Every breath, indoor or out, it felt like your lungs were burning of cold fire. Throws and blankets of fleece and wool were draped across the floors, over the couches and beds – the tower had seriously been overrun with blankets. They definitely helped fight the bitter winter, but the cruel of it instantaneously sucked any sliver of heat remaining; especially with the frost that crystallized the windows and seemed to trap them in an endless season. Then there were the hassles of missions, but at least Stark did his best to keep them comfortable while in the service of the public or SHIELD. The important thing was that they were in this together, step by step; and gradually, they would get through it just like the rest of the world.<p>

Though he was probably exaggerating, Steve felt that he would be able to see his breath if he squinted hard enough. Bundled in dark jeans, a casual long-sleeve, a decorative coat, and a knitted cap over his blond head, Steve had his face buried within his folded arms as he sat at the gallery's island. Lifting his chin, the soldier merely slithered his arm across the black granite, tightening his fingers around the base of the styrofoam cup that stationed in front of him. Dragging it towards him, Steve brought the rim to his lips, enjoying the warm steam that brushed his features. Tilting the cup, Steve carefully sipped the light tea in an attempt to avoid getting burnt before setting it down with a hummed sigh. The warmth tingled nerve to nerve pleasantly, but was immediately demolished as the chill soon fetched a shudder.

Drifting his eyes over to the lounging area, he had second thoughts about claiming the armpit of one of the sofas. The embers of the distant fireplace were gradually burning out, leaving the dimming to add with the quiet and the emptiness. Steve suddenly glanced down at his wrist which bore no watch; puffing out his cheeks in boredom until they deflated. Swiveling the twistable stool as he reached for his cup, Steve pushed himself into a stroll towards the sofas; however, he then stopped midway when a gentle _whoosh_ sounded. He shot his head in the direction of the elevator as the doors slid apart, revealing three figures that emerged. "You look lost, Cap." Steve scowled as his eyes fell upon Tony whose voice rolled into existence; the man slowly followed behind Bruce while fixing the cuffs of his coat and was finally preceded by Pepper.

"How convenient, because I was just wondering the same thing about you," the soldier returned, moving his way over to them until they met at the middle. _Humph…_ Scanning the couple from head to toe, Steve realized that they were actually matching below the not-yet zipped coats they were wearing. Tony was attired in a pure white suit with a royal-purple tie, while Pepper wore a very fancy dress with a design in the same hues. "You both look really nice together," Steve admitted with a nod, familiarizing them with two turtle doves.

"Thank you, Steve. You look comfy," Pepper acknowledged, rounding onto the other side of Tony.

"_Ha-ha_, yes, even I admit it can be a pain dressing up during the winter," he replied with a warm shrug, thankful for the casual wear the two suggested; even Bruce looked at ease, dressed in a casual grey suit. It was supposed to be a relaxing night and hopefully it would be.

"_Ugh_, tell me about it," Pepper tuned as she and Tony lead the way back towards the elevator with elbows entwined. Steve felt kinda bad for her, trying to imagine wearing a dress in the winter if he were a woman… _Yeah,_ no; it'd be annoying.

Trailing close behind them, Steve received an amused expression from Bruce as the scientist added, "At least the attire didn't call for freestyle; I'm sure we'd be seeing Clint running around shirtless." Good Lord, they'd be lucky enough if he did run around shirtless because Steve was positive the Hawk would mostly choose running around in underwear just for the fun of it.

Chuckles complied the comment for a brief moment before Tony chimed quietly, "Speaking of the devil, I'm assuming he and Natasha took off already?" The billionaire asked as they approached the elevator doors.

He took another sip from his tea. "Yeah, they left a little while ago to help Rhodes and Hogan with any last minute prepping."

"Hopefully we get there before they shoot anyone dead of suspicion," Bruce imported as the four of them piled into the elevator.

Unfortunately, the slight retort led to a disciplining prod from Pepper. "What? Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?" She asked softly as Bruce's sentence increasingly leaned more towards serious rather than joking.

"Actually, I'm with Bruce on this," Tony agreed while Steve pressed the button that would take them to the garage.

"If it makes us feel better, we could transfer them to clean up duty for bad judgement." Catering in amusement, Steve let his back gently fall against the wall, patiently waiting for the end of the ride.

"That could work," the scientist supported.

"I'm sure they'll be _fine_," Pepper reassured as they broke in faint laughter.

Harnessing a sigh, Steve laid his head back and shut his blue eyes while holding the styrofoam cup against his stomach. He'd prefer to ask what the two were going to present at the Expo to continue conversation, but it'd be worthless as Tony would just turn the curiosity down. The brief quiet was peaceful though, and it'd probably be the most peace they'd get out of the entire night. However, a heavy cough struck Steve's eyes open once again, sweeping his focal point pass Tony and landing on Bruce. He scanned for any sign of concern or uncertainty, but whatever emotion was truly there, if any, Bruce ultimately seemed calm. Steve bunched his lips, feeling that perhaps they should once again discuss the idea of allowing Tony to hold an Expo this early after the shrapnel had been removed from his chest; the soldier remained silent, though, knowing the topic would just irritate the genius. It had already been confirmed, it was done, it was going down, and there was no going back. "Which cars are we taking?" Steve asked once the doors finally slid open and he brought up the rear as they exited the elevator.

He began branching off from Pepper and Bruce with the billionaire as they were pairing up to take separate cars. "Let me ask you something, Cap - ever driven a Lamborghini?" Tony smirked as Steve matched in stride with him while the genius sent his hand in a search through his pocket.

"I don't believe so," Steve answered honestly as Tony rounded to the other side of the sport car.

"Then, I guess, today is your lucky day." As the soldier lifted a brow, Tony tossed the jingling keys over the car with a sly _ha-ha_. Capturing the keys in mid-air and climbing into the slick silver car, there was a part of Steve that couldn't help wanting to brag to Clint.

Attributing a smirk at his partner, Steve ignited the ignition and followed Pepper and Bruce's Audi out into the storm. "Alright, then, let's go." He muttered, cranking the heat knob before retrieving his tea from the cupholder and taking a longer sip.

"You're staying after the presentation, right?" Shooting a fleet glance at Tony as the man turned on the radio, Steve was forced to pull his eyes back on the abominable roads.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Tony," Steve certified and perhaps a bit more passionately than he originally thought as he set the cup back down. Usually, Steve avoided any thought or mention of a party that beeped out of the billionaire's inherited wit, but Tony had actually been abnormally serious and professional for this upcoming Expo.

Tony was settle as he rested his arm on the door's armrest, "Good, because if you'd forgotten-"

"You'd basically blackmail me," Steve finished Tony's sentence, which only made him snort in retort. The billionaire slightly glowered and merely opened his mouth as the soldier continued, "I recall it as: you swore to God that if I didn't come to the party, you'd flash everyone and say it was at Captain America's request." A diverted huff sounded from Tony as if guilty. _Now_, joke or no joke, Steve wasn't going to take the risk; however, beyond the appealing threat, Steve was glad to go in support. "Don't worry about it, I'll be there; I can promise you that. It's not the first Stark Expo I've been to," Steve's voice seemed to roll into a sigh as the memories slowly started to ink their way back into his brain just at the mention of it. "What are you presenting, anyway?" He queried, intercepting his previous thoughts to avoid what could have ended in a nasty conversation with Tony.

"_Tut, tut, tut,_ Steve, Steve, Steve," Tony began in a scold, which Steve couldn't help but leave the man with a dumbfounded look. "What's the point of surprise if you search for spoilers?" The billionaire gazed at Steve while touching his chin with a figure as if waiting for the soldier to give the answer.

Shrugging, Steve had no real answer. "Maybe someone just really wants to know something?" The Captain basically guessed, hoping it'd satisfy the genius. Tony just gave a nod that almost said Steve's answer was pretty decent.

"Good enough, I'll tell you," the man announced, nearly crossing his arms over his chest, but instead folded his hands in his lap as if the action hurt; which it probably did.

Steve nearly blurt in surprise, "What?" Nevertheless, he was still trying to decide whether or not Tony was playing him.

"Yeah, I need to rant to someone other than Pepper." Tony revealed. "Do you know how hard it is for me to keep my mouth shut for three weeks?" Suddenly, Steve felt this might be a bad idea; he could never keep up with Tony on his excitement for engineering. And if he thought about it, Steve was actually impressed Tony didn't break in babbling all his ideas to the group. "Anyway, I've started to model a satellite." Steve almost had a gaping mouth… that was a _very_ unexpected and challenging project, which even he understood. "Ever since we started manufacturing other products with the Arc, I assumed we could make ourselves even more independent if we got our own satellite. Things would be faster, more efficient, and it'd be self upgrading."

Dragging his eyes back to the road, the only thought that shimmered in his head was: _Wow_. "Tony, do you know how much that'd help us out?" Tony rolled his eyes, which made Steve question what he just said; of course the billionaire knew. There was some form of amazement racing through the Captain's veins; this could change the way they ran missions, the maps, their accuracy. "Nobody else knows besides Pepper and I?" He asked, shifting his hands on the steering wheel.

"And Rhodey. I would have told Bruce, but I thought it'd be more fun watching his reaction... because, I actually want him to help me with it." Failing to resist a smirk, Steve found that thoughtful of Tony; when you thought you knew the guy, you truly didn't.

Steve's smirk transitioned to an entertained grunt. "Bruce'll be jumping out of his skin." Leaning slightly against the car door, Tony tittered shallowly. Sighing, the soldier decided to leave it at that since the billionaire was beginning to look tired and Steve didn't want to drain him anymore. He would have asked if Tony was alright just for the reassurance, but again, that'd most likely upset him. Instead, Steve found himself turning the radio louder as they continued through the glorious gale in the magnificent city of lights.

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><p>God, the place was enormous. Clint didn't know whether or not he was heightening, but it felt like a lightyear to get around the entire interior of the building. He had at least spent the last hour walking the rafters, but there wasn't a single stench of hostility or suspicious personals. All there was was peace and laughter in the honor of celebration, which Clint should have been participating in. Unfortunately, even with the five star security Hogan and Rhodes put together, Natasha and Clint couldn't help but give one last sweep as the Expo center flooded with civilians. However, as he had promised to Tony, along with his teammates, he would do his best to take the night off. After all, he didn't know who was stupid enough to even attempt wrongdoing with the presence of five Avengers; unless, of course, that was the plan.<p>

Folding his hands together, Clint bent over the railing with some sort of unusual harmony welding into his soul. Clint didn't even know how Tony got them to agree to arranging an Expo within three weeks which was completely impossible; perhaps it was the charm within those sleek puppy-dog eyes. First it was the problem of the billionaire's condition, then renting out the entire place, sending out invitations, organizing what was to be displayed, and what was to be presented which the genius decided to keep to himself. Three fucking weeks and somehow they pulled it off, but why wouldn't they have? They were the Avengers and that rooted far beyond six lost personas. Out of all the stress and hard work from the team, Pepper, Rhodes, Hogan, and Stark Industries, the Expo was decked head to toe for the celebration of a hundred and twenty-five years of the Stark experience. At first, nobody understood why the Expo had to take place in January out of all the months in the year, but Tony must of had his reasons for convincing them: a new year, a new slate.

Clint actually felt… proud to be apart of it, because it looked incredible. White panels were set up in rows to display the Stark timeline starting from the establishment with Issac Stark Sr; all the inventions and involvements from the birth of Howard, the death of Issac, the World Wars with Captain America, the Cold War, the birth of Tony, the death of Howard and Mary, the abduction and return of Tony Stark, the end of the weapons production, the armor and arc reactor, the Avengers, and so on. Samples of food were being handed out while the dining hall had every type of food imaginable from Jamaican dishes to Russian desserts. Lights were hung up, music was playing, there were activities for the kids; and when you took a peek through the glass walls, New York was sparkling in the falling haze of snow. It was more than incredible, it was beautiful.

He enjoyed it up here, observing the crowd quite some ways below, but Clint decided it best to return to the ground as few people began noticing him and pointing. Pushing himself from the railing, Clint slowly made his way along the rafters towards one of the stairwells. Unfortunately, he was at the front of the building and needed to get to the north side where the others would hopefully be coming in soon. When he and Natasha both left nearly two hours ago, they expected the rest of the team to be on their heels shortly, but that _sure_ happened. Reaching the stairwell arch, Clint declined down the steps while considering a walk among the crowd as going through the private corridors wouldn't get the gang there any faster. Though it sounded tempting, Clint instead slipped into the blaring hallway which was block from the public with rope and security guards.

Passed the dining hall and the auditorium, Clint advanced down a corridor specifically reserved for the lot of them with an abundant of dressing and lounging rooms; and as he progressed, he noticed snow scattered about the hallway, scuffled in from the back doors while voices grew in volume. "Hey, I was starting to wonder about you guys," Clint called, entering the lounge he and Natasha had claimed, where Tony, Steve, Pepper, and Bruce had finally gathered with the Widow who wore a long black dress. "And you can take the cold back out if you don't mind," he added, keeping his distance as the brisk temperature could be felt emanating from his friends while they unbundled.

"Yeah, easy for you to say." Eyes widening in alarm, Clint immediately ducked as Tony chucked his balled-up coat at him. He nearly stood up with a blunt expression before getting pelted in the chest by Steve's coat, leaving snow to fly everywhere.

So this is what the team had come to: throwing coat balls at each other. _Huh_, how mature. "_Tony,_ I think you've been influencing Steve too much," Clint declared in a complaint, brushing the icy snow from his black leather jacket while lazily wandering around the ring of white sofas.

"Oh, _no_, not Tony," Pepper quipped as she helped Tony adjust his tie before tending to herself.

"You know, I've been looking all over for you." Natasha nipped at the Hawk as he stared at Steve who huffed. "I texted you like a billion times." Finishing, the Widow avoided the few sofas as she carried the coats over to the racks with Bruce; neglecting the few that had been used as weapons.

Realizing he'd unintentionally forgotten to peek at his phone, Clint pulled it out in correction, "Three is far from a billion, Natasha." He received a stern peer from her at the rejection of the sarcasm, which only made Clint wink in addition to his appeasement.

"Well, when you two are finished," the Captain appointed, swinging by the doors to pick up the forgotten coats. The Hawk probably should have thanked him because there was a small part of Clint that expected to be a broken body in seconds flat.

"Yes, I assume the auditorium is ready," Natasha then informed, letting the joke slide as Steve handed the last two coats to Bruce. "You two better make us proud." The Widow finished to Tony and Pepper with an astute smile as she and Bruce rejoined the group.

"_Please_, have I ever let you guys down?" Tony started, with a hint of the ego that was slowly merging it's way back as his energy did.

An exasperated mood suddenly pulled itself into existence while Pepper just rolled her eyes, use to it. "O'boy," Bruce yipped, dipping his head.

"Now you've done it," Clint uttered, which Natasha gave him a gentle shove as the group gradually made their way towards the auditorium together.

-o-

It took a lot for Clint to find the confidence to trust others; after all, there were few. Being apart of this team though, it was a new experience and seven to eight months ago he couldn't have imagined existing in something like it. He didn't know how or why, but it happened and he was glad it did; it gave Clint and the entire team a sense of friendship that they had all unfortunately lacked and within those few months Clint had learned some interesting facts. Tony was a very restless and go to guy that rarely spoke to anyone about anything, unless he was practically on his deathbed or perhaps dead; Clint would never dare to enter another closet full of skeletons and snoop, but the Initiative profiles and knowledge from the media could give anyone the gist. _So_, when the Iron Man had announced within a short amount of notice that he was getting the shrapnel removed, there was the sudden mental jolt of standing face to face with a brick wall. Nobody broke to the truth, but after sitting down, discussing it thoroughly, and taking the individual time to process the information, they found themselves coming to the terms that this was scary. They were terrified because there were only three conclusions and only one would triumph: success of the surgery, permanent complications, or death on the table.

Eight hours. It took over eight hours in removing the reactor housing, the shrapnel, and then reconstructing the sternum and the ribs with plating. How did he do it? In Afghanistan, _without_ anesthetics? That was one specific closet Clint didn't attempt treading because he felt if he did, he'd come back _skinned_. The only thing that really mattered was that Tony made it. He made it and they took him home to be monitored under Bruce and themselves, because that's who they trusted; and just because he made it didn't slip the possibility of complications. That sense of friendship had exceeded to a whole new level as they grew even more protective and even more in the state to be there. Then it was 'Let's have an Expo' and here they were, three weeks later. Now, the point of the tangent: caution. The reason for the overboard of reassurance and security, though security had just become nature to Clint. _So_, perching cross-legged on the rafters above the auditorium due to Bruce's lecture to the billionaire about limiting himself to fifteen minutes on stage, Clint watched to be sure all was well because that's what friends did.

_Yeesh_, walking a crowd was one thing, but it just looked like chaos as people continued to swarm the area. Clint was quite thankful for his fondness of heights, stowing up in the rafters with his teammates backstage as things settled down. The security chose to leave the doors open, giving the choice of coming and going as several people were still enjoying the other attractions. "Hey." Clint's focus was pulled from below to the soft footprints that clunked on the metal walkway as Natasha slowly approached with her hands tucked behind her back.

"Taashhaa! How'd you get up here?" Harping his friend's name, Clint fished the question because he knew that dresses and climbing did not equal out; but, _hey_, she was the Black Widow - Natasha could practically do anything.

"Magic," she breathed with a smirk.

Clint tilted his head up at the woman, remaining seated as she stopped beside him. A smug look crawled onto his face. "Of course," he mused, reclining slightly to see what was captive behind her back.

"Popcorn." Answering simply, Natasha held out the greasy white bag. The strong and tempting aroma wavered it's way over to Clint's senses. "I thought we could share a treat up here in the _VIP_ section," she glossed, using the popcorn to gesture at the rafters in a single hand.

After scanning above and below with a snicker, Clint affirmed, "That sounds great, Natasha." Clint took another whiff as Natasha handed him the bag which he gladly took and shot a few pieces into his mouth. Natasha settled herself next to him with the flowing end of her dress falling over her crossed legs. "So they're all set down there?" He then asked, placing the bag between them.

Taking a handful of the buttery popcorn, Natasha nodded, "Yeah, they should be coming on soon... Why? Concerned?" Clint shrugged, throwing pieces into the air and catching them in his mouth. "There's not much need to be concerned, Clint." Any trace of a poker face had long vanished between Natasha and Clint, so there wouldn't be a point to waving off the topic as she continued. "We're all fretting a bit, but I'm sure Bruce wouldn't be having Tony do this if he didn't think he was well enough; and even though Tony isn't very articulate about these things, I've known him long enough to know he can take care of himself."

Swallowing, Clint heaved a sigh, along with a steady nod. "Yeah... three weeks is just kinda short, ya know?" He said, shifting slightly as he munched on some more popcorn, "I mean, the guy's just had hell, on top of hell, on top of hell, and it still ain't over." Clint exhaled, staring down through the holes on the walkway. "But, I guess you're right; it probably is better for him to just get it out of his system, anyhow."

"Trust me, if there's something wrong, Tony will give them some excuse to leave." Progressively nodding in hesitant agreement, Clint missed one of the popcorn shots and instead found the piece bouncing off his face and flying beneath the railing in a plummet.

_Oops._

Natasha and Clint both stared at each other. "Well, that person's going to get a surprise," he muttered with the straightest face before sharing a quiet laugh with his partner. Peering over the ledge, it appeared nobody had taken notice as the chatter could compare to a full on rock concert. "That would actually be a pretty cool prank, just dump a whole bunch of popcorn or confetti over the ledge," Clint indicated, though he failed to mention that he was starting to consider it. The assassin just gave an amused shake of her head as she wasn't much into pranking, but somehow remained entertained at Clint's ardor for the mischievous actions.

The lights then began to dim and Clint was barely prepared for the roaring screams that could have shattered his ear drums. "_Finally_, we're getting somewhere," Natasha alleviated, rolling her shoulders as her attention drew to the stage below.

_Humph_. Rubbing his ringing ears, Clint caught enough of Natasha's sentence. "Yeah, and this had better be good," he grunted, hoping all of their work paid off; but, he trusted that Stark knew what he was doing. There was no way he'd risk disappointing a crowd this large, especially in his own embarrassment and reputation; and luckily, Pepper would be there as a guide if he needed it. Clint nearly wanted to shout _'PEOPLE', _leaning his head in his right hand as the audience bellowed with the lights operating in display and the music beginning in unison. If he returned home deaf, he was going to murder the genius.

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><p>There was something about the thrilling cheers that seared at Tony's flesh and pounded in his ears; all the lights exhibiting heat and the crowd of thousands was... overwhelming. Usually he was alright, Tony loved people and he loved holding Expos; that was his league. However, he couldn't shake the slight nervousness that was tingling his spine as the billionaire sat in the wing of the stage, staring at the floor with the mild feeling of sweat on his brow. "Here, Tony." The slow motion barrier was abrupt, crumpling as all the noise Tony was avoiding in the last few minutes impacted him like a truck. Stopping a startled jump, Tony's eyes shifted up to Rhodey who was offering him a water bottle. He gladly took it before silently thanking his best friend with a head gesture. "You good?" Rhodey asked, pulling up a stool next to Tony's as he unscrewed the bottle cap.<p>

Tony rested his elbows on his knees after taking a swig and while closing the bottle back up, he nodded; however, beyond the painkillers, Tony could feel the irritation lingering at his chest. "Yeah... Just taking it all in before I get out there," Tony sighed quietly, directing his sight beyond the drapes and among the audience to which he could not fully see. His pupils then took a few steps back, eyeing Pepper who was patiently waiting beside Steve and Happy in the opposite wing. Across from him, by a few yards, Bruce was leaned with his back against the stage's bulkhead; arms crossed, eyes shut, and head dipped in a rather very calm state, though he occasionally shot a glance up to check on Tony, but besides that, the scientist left the genius to his thoughts. His gaze turned back to his girlfriend. Man, was he lucky she was going to be at his side; if Pepper had been unavailable for this event, Tony would have postponed his sheer need until the summer. After all the recent incidents, Tony just needed a distraction, he needed to see something new and different... something happy. "Yeah, I'm good," Tony repeated before adding in rebound, "But how are you?" Flipping his head in the other direction, Tony's eyes fell back to Rhodes.

"A lot better, and that's the truth," the colonel said, resting a foot on the stool's support. "Government and Military's been picking up the pieces together; it's been hard, but I'm sure it's nothing they can't handle." Rhodes reassured, avoiding any mention of Killian, the Ten Rings, and the whole kabob which Tony greatly appreciated. "I just want to be sure that you're taking it easy and not worrying about it; you deserve a break from all this, Tony." For once, Tony completely agreed; the rest was for America to clean up while he dealt with his crap... But would it ever truly be over?

"Trust me Rhodey, you'd be surprised at how far I am from involved," Tony murmured, sitting up so that his back brushed the curtains. "You deserve as much of a break as I do, though." Scratching at the water bottle, the genius sighed as Rhodey shook his head in disagreement.

He thought of it unfair that he was practically grounded in a good way, but Rhodey was still working; however, that was all on Rhodes. After his president saving operation, Rhodes was suddenly treated with a temporary leave for his service... which he turned down. Normally, the colonel would gratefully accept, but there must have been something different about this one. "No, no, Tony-"

"No, Rhodey, I'm serious - if you're so worried about it then I should be worried about it." Rotating slightly towards the man, Tony supplied quietly in an attempt not to attract people aside from Bruce who popped his head up at their conversation. Rhodey's fingers slowly began to curl. "Do you just feel insecure or does big daddy feel more comfy with his spangled can of miracles?" Tony expelled a long breath, bending over again as he ran a hand over his eyes; he suddenly felt exhausted. "Why don't you just say you'll take it? Come stay with us for awhile." He finished, removing his hand and snipping a glance at his friend.

At least Tony received an understanding nod from Rhodey, which the man bit his lip as if considering the gesture. "Mr. Stark, you're on in five." A crew member then alerted, quickly poking his head around the curtain and disappearing in the next second.

Tony stood, stuffing an uncomfortable groan down his throat with a last sip of water. "I'll see what I can do, Tony, if the offer is still on the table," Rhodes then issued.

"Really?" Asking, Tony pivoted to face Rhodey with a raised brow.

"Yeah, Tony, I'm serious." Blinking in surprise, Tony knew Rhodes would eventually say yes, but he didn't expect it to be this sooner than later. "I guess if it really means that much to you, then I'll do it." ...Well, the luxuries of being Tony Stark.

"Alright." Plain as he spoke, Tony wiped the smooth material of his suit in case something was sticking to it that shouldn't. Then clearing his throat, the billionaire paused, opening his mouth in sudden thought. "Also, when you do, ask if you can reclaim the title of War Machine because Iron Patriot sucks ass." Rhodey just gave him a look, but when Tony shot a glance over his shoulder, Bruce was holding in a laugh.

Standing up while Tony grinned, Rhodey stopped in front of him and said. "_Hell,_ you know that's right." Patting Rhodes on the shoulder with a laugh as the colonel broke into a smirk, Bruce joined beside them.

"Bruce, you should join our petition; we don't need a Spangles II because we've alright got Spangles I over there," Tony exclaimed, pointing over at Steve on the other side of the stage, which the Captain happened to see. "What happened to being original?"

"One minute!" There was a shout from backstage.

"We are not finished with this conversation," Tony ordered, making his way from the two while pointing.

"Yeah, I hear ya loud n' clear," Rhodey second before optimizing, "Hey, good luck out there."

"Thanks. Hold onto this for me?" He asked, tossing his water bottle to Rhodey.

Turning around, Tony stood still at the edge of the wing where his eyes met with Pepper's from across the way. "Tony," the genius moved his gaze to Bruce who laid a hand on his shoulder. "Take it easy." Tony nodded, trying to convince Bruce that everything would be alright and they would all wake up at the tower hungover... at least they would; he was only allowed the baby portion. For some reason, Tony felt better; maybe it was the talking, or just having the moment finally be there along with his team. It probably didn't matter, though, because no nerves remained as Tony aired into the light beside Pepper, hoping he was giving something good to the world once again.

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><p>Out of all the places to get lost, it was among the food. After at least twenty-five minutes of wandering around the dining hall, sighing a few autographs for the kids, and talking to a few strangers, Clint finally decided what he wanted to eat <em>first; <em>remembering he could come back for seconds and thirds. So, making his way back to the other side of the hall and piling up a plate of Polish fare, the next step was finding the gang... wherever they were, blending with the crowd. _Gosh_, they should have just worn their suits; at least they'd be able to pick each other out then, especially Cap. Which, thinking of the devil, Clint somehow managed to spot the Captain further down one of the catering tables. _Well_,_ one down, five to go._ Keeping his eyes targeted on Steve, Clint ambled towards him in hopes he wouldn't lose the guy among the sea of heads. "Hey," Clint called, gesturing to the dining hall, which Steve heeded as he finished dishing up some type of Indian food, "Can you believe all this? Stark must have an ass load of contacts because half of these foods I've never even seen or heard of; and trust me, I've seen some pretty weird foods in my career."

The soldier just smirked as he eyed the colossal room aside Clint. "Well, recently, I think surprise has been replaced by believe in my vocab." The two of them began shouldering through the crowd as Steve continued, "But knowing Tony Stark, surprises are just ensured and if there's one thing I truly believe: it's the humongous bill he's about to receive." Clint sniggered until two kids ran right between them, making Steve and the archer raise their plates out of the way.

"Whoa! Kids, watch where ya going!" Speaking to the backs of the kids who continued in ignorance, Clint then realized one of them was wearing a Captain America sweatshirt. "_Ha-ha_, ain't that a_dorwaable_?" Clint was farce, returning his contact to the Captain while a grin sprawled along his lips. A bashful look moderately grew on Steve's face which was highly entertaining for Clint as the soldier then continued forwards without a word. "_Psshh_, I thought you were humble, not sheepish." Jokingly, the super-soldier shook his head with a friendly smile as Clint caught up to him. "But, anyway - Yeah, I'm glad that's not my problem because I could never afford this. At least he got some of the labor for free, though, thanks to us." Steve nodded in agreement while the archer placed a piece of sausage into his mouth. "Where are they, anyway?" He asked while chewing.

Steve gestured further down with his head as they weaved among the fancy tables that dotted the middle of the dining hall. "Well, if you'd paid attention instead of obsessing over the selections to the hundredth, you would know." Although furrowing his brow at the Captain's comment, Clint silently admitted it the truth because who could resist such cultural foods? Nonetheless, Clint found where Steve had pointed, to which Natasha and Bruce were sitting next to each other at a smaller, round table.

"_Uh_, Bruce.. You okay?" Clint judiciously asked as both he and Steve gradually halted, realizing Bruce's face was buried in his hands that were propped up on the table by his elbows. It looked like something was wrong; either he was crying, in shock, or trying not to hulk out, but whatever the diagnosis, Natasha was acting like world-peace had finally been established as she just patted his left shoulder gingerly before continuing to scoop out her clams.

Peeking up with his watering eyes, Bruce looked at Steve, pointed at his plate, and croaked, "Do not eat that chicken if you want to spend the next week sucking on ricolas." Steve looked a bit horrified, staring down at the reddish curry while Bruce gulped down his water.

"Good luck," the Hawk elated.

"Thanks," Steve replied, as he sat across from them beside Clint. "Where are the others?"

Natasha shrugged, browsing the area in an effort to answer them, but ended up with, "I dunno. I'm pretty sure Tony and Pepper have been swooped away by the crowd."

"Of course." The soldier muttered, starting to fork the food that had not been touched with the red sauce.

"I'm sure they'll show, but I can definitely predict their exhaustion tomorrow," Bruce said with a huff, still getting over the immense heat as he slowly picked at his food again.

"_Jeez_, I don't know how they do it. Missions are more in my favor than hosting, but you gotta give them credit." Divulging, Clint then turned to Steve, adding, "If you want, we can taste test together because I am willing to try the chicken... even if it melts my insides." Honestly, Clint was completely tempted to try the chicken after watching Bruce's experience.

"I already warned you once," the scientist piped, leaning back against his chair while Steve gave him a debating look. Shifting his eyes over to Natasha, Clint found that even she looked slightly thrilled aside from the 'idiots' eye-roll.

Resting an elbow on the table's edge, Steve gaped at Clint, "Is that a challenge? If so, I am _not_ that stupid." The soldier stated at the mild cockiness that was appearing on Clint's face. Turning and pushing the plate towards Clint, Steve encouraged, "But be my guest, Barton." _Oh, he would be_. Picking up a small piece with his fork, Clint first smelled it and started to feel some regret from the potent scent of the spice. After skewing it onto his tongue from the fork, he wanted to spit it out within one chew. It felt as if fire ants had crawl into his mouth, and slowly the tears came to his eyes. The intense heat scalded like a disease across his tongue, spearing the roof of his mouth, and attacking the rest of his senses as it poked like needles down his esophagus. He landed an elbow on the table as the hallucinations of cold sweat leaked down his forehead. Laying a hand over his eyes, Clint took a fiery breath through his nose and continued chewing. _No, he was going to swallow it_. Wanting it off he taste buds, Clint held his eyes shut behind his hand and finally swallow with the burn preserving to engulf his insides. Chuckles could be heard from beyond the fire. "Here," he caught Steve's voice after a hand fell to his back.

Clint looked up with a sniffle and recognized a glass of water through his blurred vision. "God, they could torture with that stuff." He sighed, taking the water and pouring it into his mouth. "Natasha, you're next." Clint finished in a pant.

Crossing her arms and shaking her head, the woman answered, "Hell, no." Clint nudged the plate back over to Steve as Natasha looked off to the archer's left with, "Found two." Skimming around the Captain's broad body, Clint could make out the frames of Tony and Rhodes as they neared the table... but, they looked... disturbed while quietly talking among themselves. _Oh, fuck no_. Wiping his eyes, Clint grunted, identifying that look on Tony's face he'd gotten familiar to.

"Something's come up," Clint openly guessed with a charred snit.

"Worse," the genius cleared his throat while pulling out a chair and sitting down. The note of his voice immediately influenced a frown upon the four as Tony folded his hands on the white table-cloth and Rhodes remained standing. "A bystander was just shot at forty-fifth and tenth. Female, early twenties." Clint laid a hand over his eyes again - _Damn..._ he hated it when young people became victims by chance. "The shooter appears to be an African American male in his twenties."

"Police are saying he was robbing a jewelry store and is currently headed south on tenth," Rhodes finished while they exchanged looks of both great concern and slight annoyance. The only reason they'd be told this is if they were getting involved. "The police didn't want it to come to this, but the storm's so bad they're asking for assistance."

Sighing, Clint sucked on his water, hoping to get feeling back to his mouth since he was probably going to be asked to get his ass out there. "Alright, what's the plan?" Steve asked quickly, now that time was on their tails. "Clint and I can go; they probably don't need all of us out there." That seemed reasonable to Clint, now being equipped with the HUD lenses Tony had made for him. Clint set the water down, nodding in agreement with the Captain as they glanced at each other; it should be a piece of cake.

"The rest of us and security can hold the fort, lock the place up just in case." As Tony got up, Clint and the others followed him in rhythm; scooting their chairs back and getting to their feet with the venting of pique. One night, just _one_ night; things were going well and now this. Sure the situation was probably simple, but still: they were enjoying their time among the community and friends, and some idiot had to take a slice of that from them. "Let's get this done fast," the billionaire respired. He then paused beside Steve and laid a hand on the Captain's shoulder, "And don't slip on any ice." There was a twitch at the soldier's mouth so meager, Clint wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't standing so close to the soldier; but he swore at seeing Steve's faint smirk at the genius's satire as he sauntered off through the crowd, probably in a search for Pepper. Clint took Tony's comment as an abstract way of saying 'be careful'.

"You heard him, let's get this done," Steve then repeated seriously and they went their separate ways.

-o-

Following Steve in a speedy jog after they were equipped with the com in case they got split up, the two found their way down into the garage. "Forty-fifth to here is several blocks to run, Steve; he's probably tired, especially with the snow slowing him down - there's still time to cut him off," Clint assured as the soldier was concerned they wouldn't get out there in time. The loud echo of their footsteps skirted as they forced themselves to a sudden stop behind the Mustang Clint and Natasha had taken. Unlocking it with the key, Steve opened the trunk so fiercely that Clint thought it was going to break. Clint glanced around the garage cautiously as the Captain then pulled up the secret compartment were their gear was; as he did so, Clint's eyes then landed on the vehicle parked behind them in recognition. "You brought the Lamborghini?" He exclaimed in jealousy as he knew Tony wasn't exactly driving yet.

Clint quickly yanked his leather jacket and shirt off - _hell, it was freezing_ - as the Captain replied, "_Ha,_ oh yeah, I forgot to tell you - _Dude,_ why are you taking your shirt off?" Throwing the clothes into the back, Clint was impressed the Captain used 'dude' - he was growing up so fast. Tossing Clint his vest, the super-soldier then pulled a high quality blue shirt over his head.

"Because, time or not, I will not have sleeves get in the way," Clint muttered with a cloud of breath as he buckled the vest over his bare chest, before adding, "The only thing I will accept wearing in this arctic blast is this." The archer held up a shirt-like piece of clothing. It was actually a coat made of a very thin, yet strong material that could trap in body heat and keep the user warm, even in the most brutal of temperatures. Designed by Tony in black and printed with an A on the left sleeve, the coat was meant to suit the team during the winter without interfering with their movement. Pulling the coat over his vest, Clint zipped it up and fixed the collar around his neck. Steve huffed, dressing up in one of the coats as well before getting out two pairs of gloves made from the same material. "By the way, I get to ride home with Tony and that's not a question," the Hawk said, urgently wanting to drive that _thing_ as he put the lenses on. Steve just rolled his eyes, gripping his shield and two guns while Clint swung the quiver over his back. Shutting the trunk after Clint finally seized his bow and a gun from the soldier, the two of them then bolted towards the nearest exit to the east.

Reaching the glass door, Clint followed behind Steve as the soldier shoved it open and they broke out into the bewilderment. At first it was silent with only the bleak wind whispering among the assailing snow that acted as falling stars. Slowly, the city noise and sirens grew in accord with the lights, lessening the strident of the dark. "JARVIS?" Steve called to the AI, hoping they had been connected. "Clint, lead the way," he then said as the archer's lenses could guide them more easily.

The snow had a sharp crunch as Clint dashed across the whiteout with Steve while the British voice finally came through. _"My apologies, Captain Rogers, I am currently creating a route which should lead you to the subject."_ Leading Steve onto the sidewalk north, Clint followed the path that loaded in green.

"JARVIS, can you pick him out?" Nearly pleading, Clint demanded and as he did the lenses adjusted. Scanning among the civilians that were out, there was suddenly a small red ring picking out a target about a block east and a block north behind the buildings. "Got him!" Clint expounded to Steve as they continued across a stop.

_"Good."_ The soldier responded heavily as people fled from the path in alarm.

Nearing fortieth, Clint suddenly narrowed his eyes. "This guy must be pretty determined at his pace," Clint theorized as they darted east across eleventh with few cars honking in fury. "_Shit!_ Cap, he just turned down forty-first; there's a fork: it continues straight and cuts off into fortieth." Grunting, the soldier instantly broke from Clint and headed back north on eleventh while the archer continued east. The marker turned down the cut off, which sent Clint's eyes upward: Lincoln Tunnel. God, he hoped he wasn't headed for the highway tunnel. Sliding to a standstill a few yards from the corner where the road curved around the brick barrier, Clint finally spotted the figure as he sprinted across the street senseless. Gritting his teeth, Clint quickly selected an arrowhead before pulling the arrow out by the tail. Stretching the string back smoothly, Clint followed the man with his gaze until he reached the sidewalk. "Idiot," Clint uttered under his breath as he finally released.

Yelling, the man went down with a thud as the arrow gave him a good tase. Vexed, Clint sighed as he roved over to the fussing man who looked... terrified? "_Aw _- No, no, no, no -What the _hell_ are you doing here?" The guy heaved loudly, struggling to scramble backwards through the snow as Clint continued to take baby steps towards him; and as he did, Clint realized how young this guy actually was - he had to be nineteen or twenty.

"That doesn't matter, but what _does_ matter is that you robbed a jewelry store, _shot_ a girl - and specifically on a very important night for my friend." Glaring straight into the young man's dark eyes as he tried to speak, Clint rearmed his bow and shouted, "SHUT UP, STOP MOVING!" Few civilians froze among the streets as Clint's bellow began to attract people. The kid immediately ceased and rose his hands as Clint held another unpleasant arrow feet from his chest. "Cap, I got him," Clint said into the com, glancing down the street the kid came from, "Find your way down Bond Street."

"Got it, I'll have JARVIS notify the police." Steve replied shortly.

A strong gust of the blizzard nearly made Clint stumble, but he steadied himself, trying to ignore the icy shards that were digging into his neck and ears. "Hurry up, Steve; remember, we got to get back because it's your turn to try that chicken." Mumbling, Clint thought he endured a _'Yeah, right' _from the soldier, but a sudden beeping blocked any clearance. The lenses had picked up a signature coming up fast from behind Clint and before he whirled around in alarm, the Hawk concisely found horror striking across the kid's face.

Leveling the bow, Clint shot, to which the caucasian man dodged. Growling, the man threw an arm out in attack, but Clint quickly swung his arm up in equilibrium. _Oof_. Clint felt the empty sting of his lungs as the air was knocked from him by the man's unexpected and abnormal strength. Faint screams echoed among the streets as Clint collapsed to a knee, yet trying to balance himself by grabbing ahold of the man's jacket and forcing a fist upward into his gut. It barely nudged him and the man instead returned a blow to Clint's chest that was almost comparable to that of Captain America's. Falling to his back, Clint then instinctively flung his leg up into the man's groin - _Yup, that got him._ As the man backed up in temporary pain, Clint rolled onto his side, reaching for his bow while coughing in the sharp oxygen. Pushing to his feet, the Avenger threw a hand back for an arrow; however, the man caught his bow-holding arm in a tight clutch, and expeditiously, Clint grasped the bow with left hand and smacked it across the opponent's face. Furiously, the man slashed at Clint with scarlet trickling down his forehead. Feinting the hit, Clint tossed the bow back into his right hand and after attaining another arrow, and with a grimace, propelled it into the man's chest... But the man just flinched and instead of falling, he launched himself at the archer. _Hell, this guy was not in the normal department._ _"CAP!"_ Clint sounded in a yelp as the man rammed him to the ground and wrenched him into a choke-hold. Wrapping an arm around the man's compacting limb, Clint desperately tried ripping from the hold as his air access lessened; but then there was a crushing clasp on his left bicep and an orangey glow radiated from the corner of his eye. Panic flared at every sense of Clint as the warmth transferred into broiling heat and a frail, torturous outcry erupted from the Hawk's vocal cords, feeling the scorching pain mauling at his bicep. At the growing heat, Clint viciously thrashed while patting at his waist line, trying to locate his gun.

Latching his fingers around the handle of the weapon, Clint then found himself being plunged against the snow as a booming _THUNK _freed him. _BANG. BANG. BANG._ Gulping painfully, Clint rapidly supported himself on an elbow, and as he gazed forward, he found the limp corpse of the man leaning against the tunnel's brick wall accompanied by Captain America's shield. "Clint?" Not even Steve's smooth voice could tear the archer from the frenzy as he pulled himself onto his knees, grunting severely at the chronic sizzling of his flesh. "Clint? _Clint?_ What can I do?" Steve's tone was gravely concerned as the soldier fell to his knees before Clint.

Wincing in agony, Clint removed the lenses and tugged at the zipper to his coat as the burnt odor of the fabric flitted with the hailing snow. "Get it off. Get it off. _STEVE, GET IT OFF_," Clint yapped caustically in serious discomfort. Doing as told, Steve swiftly moved to Clint's left and painfully tore his arm from the sleeve with the spy failing to withhold a crucial cringe. Heaving, Clint pulled his legs out in front of him with slight relief as the numbing cold helped reduce the misery; but then a faltered, sympathetic breath from Steve made Clint's eyes skim over to the third degree burn.

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><p><em>Thank you for your time, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a review and, hopefully, I'll see you guys soon after the Holidays!<em>

_-Learlorde_


	2. The Bench

_Greetings,_

_And **Happy Valentine's Day!** I had no idea this chapter was going to be released today, but here's your Valentine's gift from me! And wow, it's been a long time! I hope everybody had wonderful Holiday's and breaks; I've had one hell of a month or two. I must say, my favorite Christmas present was an Avenger's Blanket I actually made; seriously, I'm going to be buried with it. Then I had exams, and unfortunately, right afterwards on **January 24th**, **we had to put my dog down**. I've never exactly experienced a first family death before. We got my dog when he was six weeks and I was just five years; I've had him for more than have my life. **I****t was extremely traumatic**, but we learned he died from a brain tumor. Honestly, it's been very hard; that dog was my little brother. So, I've been struggling with writing a bit and instead I've been thinking, and I'm going to use this experience to make my writing better, because now I know what death and losing somebody is like. _

_Forward, I have a few words about Of These Harrowed Souls and further stories. First, I was considering changing the rating to M; there will not be suggestive material in any of my stories, but there will be extensive violence and language. However, unless M is necessary, my stories will remain T. Secondly, I will say I can throw curveballs in writing; I may change things from the sneak peak or decide to do something unexpected, even for me, because randomly, I decided to burn Clint- However, it was necessary and it makes writing that much better. Thirdly, not every chapter will have action, but it will be necessary because I'm a fanatic for long stories that contain almost everything. __Fourthly, there is a possibility that at certain times I may write something in that could potentially be offensive; if I do, know that nothing is directed at you, because I am open-minded and it is just necessary for the story. Everything I do will be for this story and future stories only, and nothing else; the important thing is that we globally have a common interest in the beloved Marvel Universe. We're here to enjoy, share, and love. Fifthly, I'd like to thank all my supporters for this story, all of you mean so much to me. So, with that, here's your Valentine's gift: Chapter 2 of Of These Harrowed Souls: **The Bench**._

**_Please read the Author's Notes: they contain important information on this story!_**

_-Learlorde_

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><p>2<p>

The Bench

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><p>There was nothing worse than hearing a partner enduring pain or struggling for another breath; perhaps that was a perk during the World Wars when coms didn't exist. Trekking himself faster across the snow, Steve rounded the corner onto Bond Street at the plea from Barton. It wasn't easy seeing in the dark, especially when the snow clouded out the majority of the city lights, but there was no mistaking that glow. <em>No, was that...? <em>Steve had never seen an Extremis, except for that ordeal with Pepper which had been handled, but he found himself staring at one _mangling_ his teammate. Never having the experience of facing one, Steve tried remembering what Tony had said about them; and the thing he probably recalled most was that they were extremely strong and it took a lot to take one down.

Coming to a halt, Steve threw his right arm back before ejecting the shield across the street, where it struck the Extremis against the brick. Cars slammed on their breaks as Steve jetted across the snowy path while arming himself with the gun. The Extremis's scowl was deadly as he pushed the shield aside and pulled his own gun while trying to tumbled to a knee. However, Steve immediately pulled the trigger, lancing a single bullet into his heart and two at his head. "Clint?" Steve called to Hawkeye once the assaulter remained motionless. There was a deep set of fear solidifying within Steve at the archer's dire agony as Clint struggled to his knees. _Shit, he'd been burned... _"Clint? _Clint? _What can I do?" Sundering onto his knees, Steve asked more forcefully in hopes of pulling his partner from the pain. _Burns_. Steve didn't remember much on burns; what was he supposed to _do_?

"Get it off. Get it off," Clint hissed through gritted teeth as he yanked at the coat, before harshly adding, _"STEVE, GET IT OFF." _Almost startled at the writhe tone of his snap, Steve hastily slid over to Clint's left arm with his hands grabbing the coat's collar and pulling the sleeve free from the limb. _Oh... _A devastated breath expelled from Steve's lungs as Clint shifted his legs. Aside from the dark, the soldier could make out the intense red stretching from Clint's shoulder and down most of his bicep; and with the addition of the swelling, the broken skin, and the few white areas: it was serious, either a second or third degree. "Steve, go get the kid, I'll be fine," the Hawk martyred as he met Steve's eyes.

"Are you crazy? No, Clint, I'm not gonna leave you here alone," the super-soldier stated in response, knowing that not even Clint's brave soul could wield away the exquisite pain and severity of the injury. "We need to get you to a hospital, or at least to Bru-"

"No, Steve- What if the kid is an Extremis?" There was something about the way the archer spoke that made Steve just stare at him, ignoring the point his partner made. _"What?" _Clint snarled impatiently with a grueling _pant, _before shuddering.

Furrowing his brow, Steve listened to the rapid breaths Clint was taking. _Was that normal? _"Nothing, Clint," Steve lied, continuing to watch his friend until Clint suddenly bent over with a loud and harrowed grumble. Quickly landing a hand on Clint's back, Steve gazed back down Bond Street at the growing sirens and instantly placed a few fingers against the com in his ear. "JARVIS? JARVIS, I need you to track down the shooter for the cops and get ahold of Bruce, tell him it's an emergency." Appointing to the AI, the soldier returned his attention to the Avenger's agile respiration after realizing that people were starting to clump in groups.

_"On it, Captain." _JARVIS reciprocated as Steve rose a hand to the cop cars making their way down Bond and from Fortieth east. Luckily, the traffic wasn't too bad to which two of the vehicles pulled halfway onto the sidewalk as the others progressed into the tunnel. Squinting at the flickering lights as the civilian cars began switching lanes, four officers left the vehicles; two breaking off to shoo away the crowd, one checking on the deceased, and finally a woman briskly approaching Clint and Steve.

"He's been burned," Steve told, scooting over for the officer, and while shielding Clint's arm from the callous squall that seemed to just aggravate him even more.

The officer knelt with a flashlight in hand, "_Aw,_ man." She murmured, examining the damaged skin of Clint's arm. There were several nasty injuries Steve remembered and had grown use to from the war, but it was pretty disgusting and looked extremely painful; he hadn't dealt with something like this for a long time. "We've already called for another ambulance after your _friend_ said that you were here," the officer noted about JARVIS directly to Steve, before adding, "When we heard you two were out here helping us out - _Man,_ what a surprise; but we never imagined this happening." She finished as she placed her fingers around the Hawk's wrist, searching for a pulse, which he winced though it was nowhere near the burn.

"Y-_Yeah_, neither... _did we_," the archer heaved, grimacing at the woman before adding hoarsely, "Where - _Ah_ - is the kid?" Clint began bracing his forearm with a pained shiver as the officer removed her hand.

"He's basically trapped in that tunnel, but don't be thinking about that, okay?" The woman was very calm as she spoke to Clint before focusing on her partner who was nearing them, "Go get a blanket from the car." Ordering a bit more urgently, Steve could sense her growing worry, but he then became distracted at Bruce's voice coming over the line.

_"Steve?"_

"_Bruce._" Returning solaced, Steve hurriedly massed himself to his feet, wandering off alongside the bricks with a hand back on the com, "Bruce, it's _bad._"

It sounded as if the scientist had promptly dropped any other distraction, seriously asking, _"Steve, what happened?"_

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing over his shoulder where the officer was trying to get Clint to lay on his back, but the agent argued against as it hurt too much. "Clint's been burned, like his whole left bicep - _Burned,_ burned. We've got officers here and an ambulance is on the way, but Bruce... I don't know what to do about burns and his breathing is really fast," the soldier muttered quietly while keeping sights on his partner.

_"Okay, just- calm down. How was he burned?" _Bruce began in vital question, a bit caught off guard.

Hesitating slightly, the super-soldier deferred as he moved over to his shield sitting beside the covered corpse, "Apparently the shooter was working with an Extremis - Clint completely got jumped and the guy full-on burned him."

_"An Extre- Nevermind, what's the burn look like? Is he in a lot of pain?" _Lowering his hand as he listened, Steve picked up the shield and started in a gradual pace.

Pausing for a moment as the officer and her partner finally got the Avenger on his back, he answered, "Yeah, of course - Probably an eight or a nine out of ten." Steve continued in his pace, "And it's _nasty..._ I mean, it starts at his shoulder and at least goes down three-fourths of his bicep; it's red, there's inflammation, and there are a few... _white_ areas... It's a mess..." Silence fell over the com and Steve could hear Bruce giving a troubled sigh as if he'd been stumped with a dead end. "Yeah," Steve huffed sympathetically while waiting for Bruce to find his words.

_"From what you've told me, Steve: Clint needs medical attention fast. I assumed that it was a second degree from the amount of pain, because third degrees are actually less painful; but, I don't know: it could be a lot worse from your_ _description." _Feeling his facial muscles twitching in frustration, Steve barely noticed he was strenuously pressing the shield against the brick. _"And if he's breathing really fast, he could have gone into hypovolemia which can result in shock; sometimes deep burns can do that."_

Trying not to freak out, Steve let his eyes settle back on his teammate who'd been covered with a blanket, but the officer was holding Clint's arm slightly above his torso. "Yeah, I think the cops figured that out," he pulled the shield from the circular dent of the bricks as he spoke, "Bruce... is there anything I can do for him?"

_"There's not much you can do, until the ambulance arrives,"_ Bruce said before recommending, _"Just stay at Clint's side; keep him calm, warm, and try to keep him from moving as much as possible." _Running a warm hand down his numb face, Steve sighed before Bruce proceeded with a sudden tangent, _"By the way, what's the news on the shooter - Is he an Extremis too; and what about the guy that jumped Clint?"_

"He's dead... But the kid, I don't think so, if he was an Extremis he probably would've defended himself from Clint," Steve reported, "Currently, they got him trapped in Lincoln Tunnel, but that's all I know."

_"Alright, I need to notify the others."_

"Yeah," the soldier breathed heavily while shifting his feet, knowing he needed to get back to Clint, "But, you know we'll need to discuss this matter further."

_"That'll be tomorrow's agenda, Steve, but we're still dealing with now: today,"_ Bruce countered, trying to rewind Steve a bit, _"Just worry about taking care of Clint and keeping us posted, okay? And let me know what hospital they're taking you to and I'll try meeting you there." _The soldier dipped his head in delayed acknowledgment as Bruce broke from connection.

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><p>Home. That's all the archer wanted to do: just go home. Clint could recall many traumas in his career; and whether they were minor or serious, that was a part of the job. Whenever it was the matter of getting stitches or rehabilitating in the infirmary, he had always been at a SHIELD medical bay, where explaining that you got burned by a psycho with fiery-regenerative powers was completely <em>normal<em>. However, out of all injuries, Clint had never _ever_ been burned; and being sent to a public hospital was just chaotic. It was all an enormous and miserable incomprehension of the tearing pain that continuously gnawed at Clint's bicep, the unbearable cold, screaming kids in the ER, noisy chattering, or maybe he was just going insane from the disorientation. At least they gave him the decency of a private room, which was actually fairly... warm and sorta quiet. It was hard not to shut his eyes, though the Avenger fought against until he gave up, but the soft, "Hey, Clint?" seemed to revive him and Clint opened his eyes to find Steve entering the room with Bruce behind him.

Most people would have probably been relieved, yet Clint found an overwhelming anchor of emotions catching in his throat; particularly anger. Sitting upright from his right side, Clint flinched at the bandaged bicep as he quipped directly at the soldier with a furrowed brow, "You ass." The two immediately stopped and exchanged a confused look before attending their eyes back to Clint as he continued, "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? I asked you not to leave me and then you just disappear... What the hell, man?"

"Clint, I've only been gone for about ten or fifteen minutes," Steve replied mellowly.

"That's a long time to me," Clint huffed and then feebly said, "I jus... I feel like I've been here for hours; can you get me outta here, please?" There was a very eased vibe tainting the room as the scientist drew closer to the bedside. Bruce, he was probably one of the best right or left hand men anybody could ever have; if you got stuck in the hospital, prison, got injured, or whatever the situation, he was your guy. If you were given the chance of one phone call, you called Bruce... or Natasha, to which she would first refer to you as an idiot and then bust you out of whatever the situation.

"I'm gonna see what I can do, but I'm just nervous about moving you." Bruce cautioned as Clint fiddled with the trim of the extra blankets he was provided with. "How are you feeling, by the way? I heard you refused pain medication." Scratching above one of the electrodes stuck to his bare chest, the Hawk then exhaled a fatigued sigh.

Trying not to move the basically broken arm, Clint brought his right hand over his eyes while slouching. "I'm just really tired, and a bit cold- and I didn't refuse pain medication, I just refused morphine because I didn't expect to be here this long," he mumbled with a slight growl before lifting his hand and nearly pleading to Bruce, "Please don't leave me here; and if you're worried about moving me, then we can make it quick."

"Whether it's fast or slow doesn't matter; it's the fact that your blood pressure could drop again, you're temperature is still low, and there are just other possible complications," the scientist cued, and Clint moan impatiently; he felt like he should care, but he didn't, he just didn't want to spent the night a hospital. "And they're still quite low, considering they just got you in here, but as I said, I'll see what I can do." Gently patting Clint's good shoulder, Bruce began heading to the door before adding to Steve, "Stay with Clint, alright? I'm going to check out his paperwork."

"I believe that is an order, Captain," Clint said sarcastically once Bruce had left the room and shut the door. The soldier couldn't resist a small, yet apologetic grin, pulling a chair beside the bed while the archer leaned against the headrest with a grimace as Steve sat down. Clint then asked, "How are the others, _hmm?_"

"They're fine; concerned about you, honestly. Bruce said they wanted to come," Steve answered as the Avenger pulled the blankets further over his chest, feeling the chill still clasping to his skin. "I think people are starting to leave, though; it's already passed ten."

"Man, can't believe I missed out on all that food."

Steve gave a shallow laugh, "Trust me, we've got enough to last us a lifetime; Tony is going to have to buy a thousand refrigerators to contain that much food. Or he'll just send half of it to Fury." The comment sent an immediate thought of the Helicarrier's control room being stuffed with shipping boxes full of food and an extremely pissed off Director without any idea of what to do with all of it. Clint couldn't help but express a mild chuckle, until it turned into a wince. "Have you taken any over-the-counter medication?" Murmuring as the episode lessened, Clint nodded without looking towards his empathetic friend. The soldier paused before adding, "Hey, by the way, they brought the shooter into custody."

Rotating his gaze over to the Captain, Clint muttered more alertly, "Really? That's good, have you guys spoke with Fury yet?"

"No, we're going to look into this more tomorrow; it's just... weird, a lone Extremis. Tony even had JARVIS run a scan of Manhattan: nada, there's not a single Extremis heat signature," he apprised as Clint glanced back up at the ceiling with a lost sigh.

"I just hope that kid can give us our answers," Clint breathed as his eyes began drooping shut, but the throbbing bicep acted as a wall against sleep.

"Me too, Clint," Steve responded, resting his head in a hand that was propped on the armrest.

The two of them had fallen silent as the darkness of the room, aside for the few dimmed lights of the equipment, was fairly calming; and within the next few moments Bruce had reentered with a doctor that had tended to Clint immediately after they brought him in. Following close behind her, Bruce returned to the bedside with the woman - Donovan, Clint believed - as she held a chart. "Mr. Barton, I've spoken with Bruce here, and I just want to be sure you're certain about leaving against medical advice. I highly recommend staying for at least one night until we get your vitals back to normal, but Bruce has mentioned a medical team at Stark Tower."

"Thank you," Clint acknowledged as he continued, "but, yes, I'm set on going home."

There was a concerned look on the doctor's face, but she gave a nod anyway. "Alright, but I am required to list off the risk factors; unhooked from the IVs and without medication, you are vulnerable to infection, becoming ill, hypothermia, and hypovolemia." The three of them listened carefully as Donovan began explaining more thoroughly, "Hypothermia may seem silly with burns, but body fluid is supposed to help regulate your body's temperature and when somebody gets a large burn, like you, all of that fluid travels to the damaged area where there's already been excessive volume loss and continues to be volume loss. This is what results in hypothermia and hypovolemia, as your body isn't able to produce enough heat or receive the proper amount of nutrients; this is also the reason for the swelling, which will most likely continue for the next couple of days." Pausing as she tapped her pen, she then turned more towards Steve and Bruce. "I suggest keeping him hooked up to an IV to replenish the fluid loss until the swelling has ceased. Same with drinking, don't have anything that will dehydrate you, like caffeine or alcohol; so, only water until you're off IVs. You should also keep the temperature of the living space higher than you'd normally have it for the damaged tissue. And, finally, the dressings; normally, you should change them about twice a day and have somebody help you with it. To prevent infection, you'll probably need antibiotics through the IV and keep the burn dry and covered until the skin has repaired."

"Is that all?" The Avenger pondered.

"Yes, all you need to do is sign this AMA forum stating of your leaving against medical advice," the doctor finalized, handing over the clipboard atop the chart along with her pen. Leaning forward, Clint took it and began scanning over the short document. "There is also the other essentials on recovery like driving, limited mobility of the arm, and when you'll be capable of going back to work." Clint paused half way through signing his signature in one of the many slots and glanced up towards the woman.

"What's the estimated time for recovery?"

It was Bruce who answered sensibly, "About three weeks." A small rush of anxiety smacked into Clint's mentality as he gazed at his bow and quiver that nested in the far corner with the Captain's shield. _Three weeks?_ He was getting bumped to the bench with Tony because of a _burn_ for _three fucking weeks_? Clint rubbed his forehead with a sigh. Man, this was going to kill him; three weeks down was almost comparable to three months in the Hawk's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Clint," Steve murmured as the agent continued signing his name in the necessary blanks.

"It's alright, how bad could being on the bench with Tony truly be?" He murmured, though it was _not_ alright and held the clipboard out to his friend, "I need two witness signatures."

Upon taking it, Steve rose a brow, "Sure you don't want to stay a night?" Returning with an irritated stare, Steve signed the paper before passing it onto Bruce; and as he did, Clint began pulling the electrodes from his chest in company with the monitor flatlining.

* * *

><p>"Are you certain about this?" Glancing up from the tablet in his hands, Bruce watched Steve appear from the hall and make his way over to the island were the scientist sat. Remaining silent while continuing to swipe at the screen, the soldier passed him as the stainless-steel kettle began spewing steam in a whistle. "Is peppermint alright with you?" Steve then asked, but Bruce still didn't answer as a long pause chained the moment until the super-soldier came beside his shoulder. "Hey, you okay?" Gently questioning, Steve then followed Bruce's gaze at the tablet, "What are you looking at?"<p>

"Burns," the doctor replied, analyzing the second-degrees under the faint kitchen lights. "You said the burn looked something like this?" Bruce held up a picture to Steve, which his grimace practically gave the answer. "You know, Clint's actually pretty lucky; if the burn had been any larger or deeper, that could have been the end of his career," he tipped, turning off the tablet and setting it aside. Over the last few months Bruce had truly recognized the connect between a person and their bow; it'd be absolutely devastating for Clint or any one of them to get permanently knocked from the block.

Running a hand through his curly hair, Bruce drifted his eyes towards Steve who looked like he had his tongue in a knot. "Oh.. Well, he'll be okay though, right?"

"He should be, as long he doesn't push himself into picking up that bow." Pursuing, Bruce turned slightly as Steve moved back over to the counter. Opening two cupboards, the soldier pulled out two mugs and began pouring the hot water.

"Peppermint?" He re-asked.

"Eh, why not." Normally Bruce would have had decaf at this time of night, but he preferred staying up to keep an eye on Clint's vitals. "Things are going to be a bit difficult for the next couple of weeks, having both Clint and Tony out of the game now," he said as Steve handed over a mug. Three to four weeks was a _long_ time in their world, considering the amount of cases they took in that amount of time; and to think with two Avengers down. "We'll have to get reinforcements with SHIELD for further missions until they're capable for remission." Dabbing the tea bag by the string, Bruce depressed himself from the stool where he then dropped it in the trash and shut the lid.

"We may even have to drop a few to stay around here if they need us," Steve added with his back against the island as Bruce ambled beside him, except facing the opposite direction; as he nodded while setting the mug down with a soft _clack_, both their attentions were drawn to the parting of the elevator doors. "Hey," the soldier was benign, turning around as Natasha appeared first with the others languidly ensuing.

A heavy sigh rushed from Natasha's lungs as she reached the island, locating a hand on the granite with a pair of clinging keys while in irk, "Hey, how's Clint?" Pepper had joined Natasha as the red head leaned forward, supporting herself with folded hands on the counter while Tony quietly paused behind them to listen; the three of them looked decisively exhausted, almost like wet dogs coming in from a downpour- just in replacement with an icy blizzard.

"Clint's in a pretty vulnerable spot right now, but he's hanging in there," Bruce corresponded sincerely as Natasha, Pepper, and Tony carefully ate the information. "We just need to keep an eye on him for the next few days, make some small adjustments, and he should fully recover." It was the fully recover part that conjured their relief as they began taking off their coats. "He's on the bench with you now," the scientist gestured to Tony with his mug, who retorted with an obstinate expression, but Bruce could tell that the billionaire was pacified he wasn't going to be home alone some days.

"_Heh_, more people coming to join me on the dark side," the genius cited mischievously as he strayed from the kitchen.

"At least he's going to be okay," Pepper primed, walking around the island to retrieve a glass from the cupboard and ending at the fridge to fill it with water.

"How long does Feathers have clipped-wings?" Focused on Tony who briefly turned to walk backwards in question, Bruce cautiously observed the fatigued friend.

"About three to four weeks," Steve answered and froze the mug at his lips as the three of them chorused in shock:

_"Whoa!"_

_"Holy Moth-"_

"How big is the burn?" Pepper then asked as the assassin towed her phone from her pocket.

"The whole front of his left bicep." The soldier coordinated with his own limb to give them a better idea.

"He really is on the bench with me." Uttering more seriously, Tony started his way back over to them. "Are you sure you shouldn't have left him at the hospital for a night?" It took Bruce by surprise that Tony mentioned that, considering he hated public hospitals just as much as Clint did.

"I was, but he was getting distressed; and I'd rather not have a distressed SHIELD agent, more so, an Avenger at a public hospital," Bruce stated, taking another drink of the peppermint.

"That was probably a smart idea," Tony mumbled, halting mid-way before adding, "Where is he now?"

"Bedroom, sleeping," he answered, watching Tony redirect his vision in thought.

"Have any of you told Nick?" The Russian was supple, bringing her torso upright as they shook their heads. "I'm going to call him and let him know," Natasha said as she laid the phone against her ear while drifting off towards the dark living room. The soft snort from Tony forced Bruce's consideration back at the billionaire, who then straggled off towards the hall.

Raising a brow, Bruce called out to Tony's disappearing back, "Don't bother him too much if you're going to see him." Pepper still lingered about the ginormous room, gathering the few things that belonged to her before gradually following her boyfriend. Taking a deep breath, Bruce pushed himself from the counter with his mug. "You gonna stay out here for a bit?" He asked Steve, progressing a few steps back.

"No, I'm right behind you," the soldier tired, "but I'm going to wait for Natasha."

Bruce's eyes found the Widow's figure on the other side of the room with the gentle murmurs of her voice. "She might be awhile," he said, knowing that Fury was probably getting his wrath on.

"That's alright," Steve shrugged.

"Alright, then," Bruce replied softly as he backed up and began turning, "Have a good night, Steve; and _seriously_, get some rest."

"We'll see."

The scientist stopped as he began pivoting in the direction of the hall, pronouncing a bit strictly, "No_ 'we'll see'_, Steve; _do_. I know you're concerned for the team's well-being with two of us down, but that's not going to benefit us at all. What we need - _what I need_ - is for you to be on your A game, because what if something happens, and you're not; plus, Clint and Tony are going to probably need me here on some days. That's practically three of us down, and leaves Natasha alone in the field, unless you're at your optimal. _Please_, don't do this to yourself; I'm watching over Clint." Honestly, there was probably nobody more selfless than Steve, but unfortunately, that's where he need the biggest shake to the head sometimes. Pulling his gaze back towards Bruce after dropping it for a moment to listen, Steve acknowledged:

"Okay, Bruce; have good night." Accepting the soldier's understanding, _finally_, Bruce left the kitchen to go wait out the boundless night.

* * *

><p>Freedom was an important aspect that naturally engaged and identified souls, especially Tony's; and the hardest thing about recuperation was the restrictions. It was dealing with the emotions, the second-guessing, the distractions, and <em>oh God<em>, the patience; at least it was a familiar process that, unfortunately, never got any easier. There were those times when you thought things were over and done, that life would heal and move on, until you rediscover the horror resuscitated. At a time, Tony chuckled at the fact that he, as well as the Avengers, were one hell of a magnet to that kind of bad luck; or maybe he was just getting driven mad from the physical and mental exhaustion. Well, the life of a superhero; the good and the bad. However, whatever the crap, the most important thing to know was that everything would be okay: because rock and roll still existed.

Morning, afternoon, evening, or night; if things ever went south, at least rock and roll would remain the same. The most infinite candidate for distraction from all of life's problems; past, present, and future. Another perk, was the fact that it could fill the empty void of the tower on the days it was quiet; like today. Tony didn't doubt that last night was restless, for all of them; and for the ones that weren't on the bench, they were most likely fueling from loads of caffeine. For the billionaire, however, a regular smoothie, while being prowled by holographic tabs and swamped by music, nearly completed his day. Bruce wouldn't have been to ecstatic as he was more concerned with Tony getting stressed out by work and other personal issues, but it kept the man busy. Nevertheless, today it was excruciatingly necessary.

It almost brought Tony's lip to an unpleasant curl, digging through the old AIM and Extremis files that had been sealed away. _Eek, Killian,_ the genius snarled silently with a snort, ready to spit out the barbaric profanity._ God_, Tony wished that fucking cocksucker was still alive just so he could kill him, but then a surreal image of a corrected formula began hissing at his lobe that he was as much to blame as Killian. First it was Happy, then Pepper, and now Clint; fuck, that _shithole_ really knew how to haunt after he was long gone. At some point while analyzing between the digital copies and the physical transcripts, Tony could feel his fingers enclosing at the margins; however, he repressed from tearing it to pieces as a dull _thump_ drove his attention from the spawn of Satan - perhaps even the Godfather of Satan.

_"Hu... Ah."_ With a swipe of his hand at the grumbled wince, the holograms had disappeared; taking their blue tint from the natural light that braised the lounge in winter's scarce warmth. Clearly scanning the area, Tony's eyes found Feathers supporting himself with his right hand, crossed over his chest, against the wall. Leaving the island with a concerned brow, the billionaire steadily approached Clint who was taking heavy breaths.

"You okay?" He asked cautiously, noticing that the archer was holding his left arm tightly at his abdomen.

"Y - _Yeah... I_ - I _just... st_ - stumbled," Clint returned, stuttering in dismay.

"Here, come sit down- I heard your vitals went a bit low during the night, you sure you should be up?" Tony continued calmly as he gestured an offer of help towards his friend.

Declining the help, Clint took a deep breath before pulling himself together. "No, really, I'll be okay, Tony," he murmured thoughtfully. Observing the Avenger for a second, Tony realized that at least Clipped-Wings could dress himself into a dark zip-up and jeans; so, accepting the words with a sigh, Tony began progressing back to the island.

"Fine," he said, before adding, "But, seriously, you should sit down and eat something: _r__est_." Receiving no response from Clint, Tony stopped and turned on his heels; the Hawk looked a little lost, staring off into complete space. Something began burrowing through the walls of Tony's heart, and he instinctively knew it was guilt. "Clint, I'm really sorry about what happened; we're all here if you need anything," Tony tried comforting, taking a few steps towards the man, and then suddenly added, "Except for today; today I'm in charge of you."

Slowly, Clint's gaze met Tony's, and casually he muttered, "Is it weird that yesterday we were all telling _you_ that?"

Tony gave a settle laugh, and instead indicated with his head towards the kitchen, "Want anything? Eggs, toast, sausage, smoothie-"

"I don't think I'm allowed to have smoothies," Feathers corrected in slight depression.

"Smoothies aren't caffeine, it's fruit and veggies, which are optional- but what you need.. and protein," the genius told, passing the island and heading towards the kitchen, "I'm going to make you an egg too, okay? Unless you have an appetite for odd things, like I did." An amused _Heh _came from Clint, which Tony absorbed as he searched among the white boxes that were packed in almost every crevice of the fridge. "And if you do... well, we have breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next week or so," Tony said, eventually finding the carton of eggs.

"Yeah, I can see that; but, I think an egg and smoothie is enough for now." Listening to the feedback, Tony had collected the items he needed as Clint noted, "Also, if you don't mind, will you at least make the smoothie look as good as it tastes?" Tony couldn't help but chuckle; at least he wasn't housing the pickiest people in the world. "Hey, it stopped snowing," Feathers then quipped.

Shooting a short glance over his shoulder at the white city sitting beyond the glass, Tony enlightened, "Just for a little while, it's supposed to snow later in the evening." Engrossing back to cooking, Tony scrambled two eggs in a bowl before adding a little bit of milk to the batch. He was thinking about adding salt, but then thought it not a good idea if they were trying to keep Hawkeye hydrated. Tony then narrowed his eyes, and returned his gaze to Clint after realizing that something was missing, "_Where_ is your IV?" A look crossed Clint's face as he merely pointed down the hall, because he was _busted_. "Go get it, or both of us are in trouble if Bruce comes in and sees you walking around without it," he demanded in more of a brotherly way, considering he used to do the same thing when nobody else was on the floor.

"After I eat, okay? You know how annoying that thing gets." The billionaire took the persuasion while staring the archer down with an evil eye, because he _did_ know how annoying the IV got.

"Fine, but that's when you tape it to your arm so you don't have to carry it around," Tony stated, pouring the eggs into the buttered pan with a sizzle while JARVIS worked on the smoothie.

"Tony...," Clint's voice filtered the air after a few quiet moments... apologetically? "I'm sorry about last night, I know how big of a deal it was."

Exhaling a breath, Tony grabbed a plate from the cupboard. "You know, Clint, it's okay," he spoke truthfully while scraping the eggs onto the plate. "The important thing is that it was fun while it lasted, and nobody but us had an inkling about what was happening." Pausing to find his next words, Tony brought the plate, along with a fork and the _attractive_ light green smoothie, over to the island. "I'm just frustrated at the fact that.. _that_ fucking idiot still has Extremis' out there somewhere." After pointing at the physical documents scattered across the granite, Tony glared down at his hands in attempt to hide the pure hatred flaring in his pupils as Clint vaguely sat across from him and accepted the food.

"You can't be blaming yourself, Tony; this is _not_ your fault." _Yeah_, if only he knew the full story. "If it's anybody's fault it's Killian's, for not being mature enough to suck it up and move on." Tony found his eyes hardening on Clint who was browsing the papers while taking a few bites of the eggs.

"How did you hear about this?" The billionaire asked.

Clint paused at Tony's intimidating glare, "...Word gets around." Nipping at the inside of his cheek, an _Uh-Huh_ rumbled from Tony's throat. "But.. it's going to be okay, Tony... we're going to figure this out-"

Though appreciating the condolence efforts, the genius instead mumbled, "That'll be more guaranteed once we put this to rest." There was mild sympathy glinting in Clint's eyes, watching Tony for a moment before he continued gradually eating. "In case you were wondering," Tony then began, pulling up the holographic tabs with a signal to JARVIS, "Bruce, Steve, and Natasha took the jet out to SHIELD after Fury had the shooter transferred to a Helicarrier."

Recovering the data and profile, Clint hazily skimmed the digital files with little energy. For a second, Tony thought Clipped-Wings was even starting to look pale, but perhaps it was just the light because then he casually said, "Elijah Mithe, nineteen... Man, what the hell is going on? This kid is too young to be in a mess like this."

"I know, the others went out there to personally interrogate him; SHIELD didn't have much luck- I'm actually surprised he hasn't crapped in his pants yet," Tony supplied while waving on a wide-range map of the United States. "Natasha said she'd call once they got more information." Pushing the nude plate out of the way, Clint's eyes fluttered over to the buffering hologram as Tony continued, "In the mean time, I've been having JARVIS do a national scan for Extremis heat signatures...," he trailed off slightly in disappointment, "...And they definitely know how to hide."

"When did you start this?" Questioning, Clint indicated with a hand towards the transparent screen.

While biting his lip, Tony dragged a stool closer to him. "Around the time our trio left, so a few hours." Rubbing his forehead with a sigh, Tony settled on the stool, feeling a tad light-headed from the look he received from Clint. "I _know_; it's like dealing with another tesseract, but not," he groused just as the percentage increased to ninety-seven.

"Well, it's getting there," Clint yawned, resting his head on his folded arms.

Adjusting the hood over his head, Tony snorted in slight amusement as the agent then approvingly hummed at Journey's_ Lights_ sounding through the speakers. Gradually, he observed his friend until both their attentions was pulled to the billionaire's phone as it began vibrating. "Finally," he mumbled, reaching for it, "Yes, Agent Romanova?"

Perhaps he should have checked the caller ID, because it definitely _wasn't_ Natasha, _"Sorry, Tony, not her."_

_"Bruce,"_ Tony spoke, and yet informed at the same time, which made Clint lift his head and wave at his neck in signal _'Don't tell him about the IV', _"Things going okay?"

_"Yeah, Natasha and Steve finally got Elijah talking; this poor kid... he isn't even a bad guy, just someone that's going through a lot,"_ Bruce expired, and Tony found his gaze shifting downwards as he spun merely on the stool, tangent from Clint. _"But, I wanted to check up on you two; is Clint up?" _

Sliding his eyes parallel with his shoulder, Tony peered at the Avenger. "Better then up; here he is," he aired, stretching his arm across the island at Clint who was suddenly fired enough to kill the genius. However, he eventually took the phone after hesitating.

"Hi..," Clint snuffled, holding his head in a hand and the phone in the other, "...I'm okay, doing the usual of babysitting Tony and listening to Journey..." The comment only got the archer flipped off as Tony began scavenging through files again. Whatever Bruce said about the billionaire next forced a grin onto Clint's face, "...Yes, he is- but he's been up working for awhile," Feathers conveyed more lightly, succinctly glancing at Tony, "...Yeah, me too... Of course, Bruce; it's kinda hard not to, practically being tethered on the bench together," he finished a bit weakly, before he suddenly glared up at Tony after a few moments, "Natasha and Steve are finished interrogating Mithe."

"Good, that's really good," Tony dawdled, anxiously stacking the document packets, which got him an odd stare from Clint.

Temporarily distancing the phone from his ear, he asked, "You okay?"

"I just want to get this over with," the genius dejectedly cast, "JARVIS, if you would connect us to the com, please."

_"I just did, sir,"_ the AI announced, which left Clint to hang up on the cell.

"You guys there?" Tony questioned, awaiting a voice.

It was Natasha that reported, _"Yes, we are."_

"Alright, shoo; what ya got?" The billionaire proceeded while crossing his arms.

_"You're not going to like this, Tony, but Elijah had one of those.. chips or inhalers on him,"_ Fury began, which Tony and Clint exchanged a look, _"He said about two weeks ago he was approached by a man named Jonah who wanted to make a deal; he could give Elijah something that would cure his younger sister of cancer, if he joined the Extremis."_ Tony found himself staring at the countertop... that was just messed up.

"Why'd Elijah still have the inhaler on him then?" Clint asked for Tony.

_"He said he was having second thoughts about taking it to his sister,"_ Steve mentioned.

_"The point is that the Extremis are working as an underground operation and are recruiting by illegally trading those inhalers,"_ Natasha acquainted, before adding, _"By the way, how's that scan coming along?"_

Scowling at the screen, it finally had one percent to go, "You'll get your answer in a minute or so," Tony stammered.

"How do you think they're getting the inhalers; I thought they were either destroyed or taken to military bases?" The archer inquired.

"They were," a heavy breath spelled from Tony's chest, and immediately he wanted to use the sharp pain of his ribs as an excuse to ditch this conversation. "Fury, we're taking this over right?" His mutter was almost a plea as the buffering reached a hundred percent and the image cleared to the results.

_"No doubt,"_ Fury applied reassuringly as both Clint and Tony's eyes mildly widened at the hologram, _"I'm sending out jets to transfer the inhalers to SHIELD bases."_

"Nick, you need to send them out right now," Tony urged slowly, flicking a hand in the direction of JARVIS to send the map across the line, "You see this- they're crawling right under out noses like termites," he railed as red markers severely dotted the country _everywhere, _scaling from solo to huge groups; every state, major cities, the borderlines of Mexico and Canada.

"Wait, you guys see those clusters?" Clint alertly pointed out the few gobs that were _moving_.

_"Shit,"_ Fury jawed as the cursing rippled through the communication feed, _"Guys, let's go! Now, or they'll strip those bases clean before we get to them."_

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for your time, I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a review. Next chapter will hopefully be out in mid March, because I have to study for the dreaded ACT test, which will determine my fate for college. So, until then my dear friends! Also:<em>

**_Upcoming New Stories_**

_So, a few months ago I began thinking of new ideas for stories; there were some that had to do with certain characters, and so forth. However, then I came up with something so odd I was like: Holy fuck, yes! You guys gotta get ready for what I'm about to tell you, because it's insane: Somebody gets turned into a dog. I just think nobody's ever thought what would happen if something like that occurred, so I'm going for it! I already know who the character candidate is, but I'm not telling; it just makes it all the more fun xD. This new story will take place before Ultron, and will be rated T and be categorized as Hurt/Comfort/Angst because there is some to a lot of brutality. I'm currently aiming for an early summer release, so I'm with you guys all season with both stories! So, until that distant time, ponder my friends! -Grins evilly-_

_-Learlorde_


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